


Star Bridge

by Angelic_Ascent



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Character Death Fix, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Ascent/pseuds/Angelic_Ascent
Summary: This night, a group of bright stars catch his attention. They’re a slew going downward — even Ephraim knew this one, the Milky Way. But commanding more of his attention are two specific stars, separated by the Milky Way itself. They’re both bright, beautiful. He wishes he had paid more attention. He wishes he could remember more than the way his friend’s lavender eyes sparkled in the starlight. The same stars they had looked at then look back at him presently, silent as ever, but now they are nameless.
Relationships: Ephraim/Lyon (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Star Bridge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lethalfurry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethalfurry/gifts).



> thank you lethal for always putting a smile on my face and being there.  
> thank you wife for your astronomy knowledge.  
> thank you feh for confirming ephlyon REAL

Ephraim rides to Grado in small company — namely Eirika, Seth, Kyle, Forde, and only a few other government types.

The trip is quick. About as fast as Ephraim’s infiltration into Grado after the initial attack on Renais, when Ephraim had been fueled by adrenaline and a million emotions.

Which isn't something he wants to think about. 

He wants to mourn. He wants to be alone with his sister and grieve. No — really, he wants to go back. He wants to do it — to do so many things — over again. What he would give to turn back time.

The scenery truly decides to stab him with that, making him feel like he almost has. With the rush of all that has happened and Grado's people struggling to hold together at all, the signs of war and combat are still fresh as Ephraim and his company cross the border. What felt like only days ago Ephraim was here with just as small a retinue as he had now, and it truly looks as if it was only yesterday: weapons left broken where Ephraim himself had disarmed a foe, the darkened blood stains the only tell that time had passed. The quiet was suppressing, no man or beast having tread through the battle-torn land since. It had been easier, then, to push himself, to go on. Back then, he led himself through this for the sake of people he wanted to protect, Eirika, his father, and —

Close behind him he hears Eirika suppress a sob. He fights the urge to turn and comfort the one person he did manage to keep safe, lest he come undone himself.

* * *

This trip into Grado is, of course, physically easier. No one would be ready to fight them off even if they wished.

Their stay at the castle, too, is meant to be quick. This was simply to meet Grado’s council — to offer what aid they could in light of the earthquakes and landslides that had befallen them. The small company had been in part to not seem imposing, to not seem as if they were trying to take over in their disarray. 

It was also true that Renais did not exactly have easy means to provide Grado support. They simply had their hands full trying to recover from their own war-torn state; in fact, several aides has warned Ephraim and Eirika against this trip. But of course it had never been like them to turn from others’ suffering, let alone Grado's, and recent events hadn’t changed that.

And perhaps, perhaps, even if it was only a tiny bit of help they could give, if it could help his soul rest even the smallest amount, it would be worth it.

The meeting is exhausting and they were already exhausted. When they finally agree to break for the day, Ephraim is sure his eyes are going to simply force shut at any given moment.

“They didn't seem too happy with us…” Eirika says quietly as the members of the Grado council left earshot.

Seth sighs. “I imagine it is embarrassing for them. They invade another country — countries — and now they are offered help by the same. And they're not in a position to refuse.”

“Must all politics be so prideful?” Ephraim says, clicking his tongue. “You saw what we passed on the way here. The people are starving, impoverished, especially those on the border — their food has run out and so many are injured — they must know this. And yet they still wish to ‘debate’ our help?”

Eirika places a hand on his arm. “It's awful. I fear for Grado. Who is going to lead? She needs a kind heart, a caring soul. Oh, if…”

Her gaze falls and she brings her other hand to her mouth, and Ephraim sees tears well in her eyes.

“I know,” he says quietly.

By now the rest of the Renais crew has filed out, and Seth only gives Ephraim one lingering look before making his own quiet exit.

“I know,” Ephraim repeats, quieter still and softer, stepping closer to his sister and gently placing a thumb to her cheek. 

She offers no protest.

* * *

It's the end of sundown when all that's left for Ephraim is to retire to his bed chambers. He walks with a brisk pace, a too familiar pace — he knows these corridors and passages for all the wrong reasons, knows so many details he shouldn't, like the sound of bodies hitting the age old stone.

He also knows where his given guest room is without an escort, but at least for what is — or should be — a less painful reason. He had stayed there once before. His last memory of it is a polar opposite of today — it was a bright, sunny morning as he woke, the voices and footsteps and life bustling outside his bedroom door telling him he had slept in. He had woken in even more of a state of disarray than he had fallen asleep in — legs dangling off the side of the bed, head somewhere in the middle of it, as even a mattress as large as that had struggled to accommodate him, Eirika, and their precious friend all at once, who had apparently fallen asleep amidst their chatter that had lasted long into the night. Or maybe it hadn’t struggled that much. Looking at it now, it’s somehow bigger than Ephraim remembers, despite the fact that he himself is also bigger now. It looks far too lonely for one person.

He shuts the guest room door, not yet ready for sleep, he tells himself, and when it closes he can hear himself smothering the ghostly echoes of their laughter.

Instead he walks down the hall. This is a part of the castle he has never actually explored. It’s just as lonely and quiet as the rest of it, but with even less moonlight filtering in through the smaller windows. Despite being lesser, it catches every inch of dust now floating in the air, as if this section was somehow long-abandoned. It’s sad, Ephraim thinks, because if someone was there to look after this, if someone was just there to look out for it, it would be beautiful.

His feet leave imprints in the dust on the floor, a mark that will be left for whoever else treads down here to see. A door awaits him at the end of the hall. He opens it, the handle cold even against his gloved hand.

He had come here absentmindedly, without really thinking, without knowing what he would get into. His heart aches at the sight in front of him. He already knows.

The room is small for a prince’s room, but given its out-of-the-way location Ephraim knows it would have been chosen by its resident specifically for that reason. The dust is somehow thicker here, as if to make Ephraim feel like it had been a lifetime since it was occupied. Books upon books line on a tall shelf, several more stacked on a desk and on the floor next to the bed. Notebooks piled here and there. A withered plant next to the solitary window. 

Ephraim sighs heavily.

He hadn’t been in Grado palace many times before the war — only a couple — and he had never been invited here. The room's occupant had always been self conscious, so it wouldn’t have surprised Ephraim if maybe he was self conscious of his living quarters, too. Wouldn’t surprise him now, either. Too late. Once again, too late.

Ephraim shuts the door. On the off chance someone else came down the hall, he didn’t want them coming in. It felt wrong, somehow, for anyone else besides himself and probably Eirika to be here. Even that feels a little selfish and wrong. Did he even have the right? 

He walks over to the bed a bit slowly, as if treading on some holy ground. What would become of this room? Would someone else take it? No. They couldn’t. What would happen to these notebooks? Ephraim’s hand grazes over the surface of one. Even his lightest touch leaves a mark that can’t be missed. It’s worn and old but still doesn’t open too easily, closed for so long it has perhaps forgotten how.

The inside is filled with what only reads like gibberish to Ephraim. Magic, formulae, measurements, ancient language… all things at which he decidedly did not excel. Things that he had no talent for, but he did. Did he take no pride in this? It was a gift, even Ephraim could understand that it was years beyond his studies, things that experienced scholars triple his age should be writing, not a young prince. 

Scraps of too torn, worn, tired paper fall off the notebook as he puts it back down. 

Ephraim sits on the bed. Moonlight glares in his eye. Still, he looks to the window from which it comes. The plant is a bit in his view — he suspects that when it was once full of leaves and green, it blocked the light a bit. But now it is withered, its leaves dry and shriveled or fallen with no one around to care for it. If someone had come sooner perhaps they could have saved it.

Too late, too late.

Ephraim stands up.

He opens the door. It creaks as if in agony. He shuts it and it creaks louder.

When he’s turning back towards his own room, he sees two figures down the other pathway at the fork. They’re down a set of stairs, but off towards the corner, in the shadows, as if trying to be alone. 

He hears them and knows before he can visually discern who they are. Eirika’s soft sobs are too familiar. Until recently, he had forgotten what they sounded like. But lately he hears them far too often to forget again.

Now, though, they’re only soft because they’re muffled — he realizes, she is not trying to quiet herself as usual. She is sobbing openly. Stepping closer, he sees that her face is buried in L’Arachel’s shoulder. L’Arachel strokes her hair. Her lips move with soft words for only Eirika to hear. 

A draft blows in, and cold air wraps itself around Ephraim’s body in a way that he is sure Eirika and L’Arachel cannot feel so close together.

He stays there. He does feel almost like an intruder, but he does need to know why L’Arachel is here, especially with no forewarning and so late. He steps back so he at least can’t see them anymore, waiting until Eirika’s sobs slow and then eventually stop.

A bit slowly he turns the corner again, and this time L’Arachel is quick to catch his eye. 

“Ah, Ephraim! There you are. We were just looking for you,” she says, an arm still on Eirika’s shoulder. Eirika looks up at him, and she takes a quick step away from L’Arachel, rubbing her eyes. 

“Hello,” Ephraim says, descending the stairs. He gives the best smile he can muster. It’s not much. “What brings you here? Is everything alright?”

L’Arachel’s smile is still placed, but she merely takes a breath as if to speak, but then stops. “Everything… is not bad,” she says. She looks around. “Perhaps we should move somewhere private. Eirika tells me you brought others, yes? I would bring only Sir Seth, perhaps.”

Ephraim, too, gives a glance around them. No one seems to be around — no one had seemed to be around for a while now that it was later — and his stomach twisted a little in anticipation of whatever information L’Arachel was may be holding. An unusual emotion for him, no doubt. “Alright. I know the room Seth is staying in. We can just go there.”

L’Arachel nods firmly, and Eirika does too, weaker. Her eyes are glassy and a bit red. Ephraim fights the urge to embrace her.

He leads them up the stairs, down near Ephraim’s own room. A few doors down, he knocks. Seth opens it not even a moment later. “Milords — and Princess L’Arachel.” He bows. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Seth,” L’Arachel says, nodding her head. “May we come in?”

He bows again, and gives a polite motion for them to do so. L’Arachel shuts the door behind them.

“To tell you all the truth,” she starts quickly, lowering her voice despite the closed door, “Even I do not know entirely why I am here. Saleh sent me.”

“Saleh?” Ephraim questions. “For what purpose?” 

L’Arachel gives him a bit of a look. “Like I said, I do not know for certain. I received his word in a letter. It had one message: ‘Get the prince and princess of Renais, and come to where it ended.’” She reaches into her cloak, and pulls out a small, green scale. “It also had this.”

“That has to be Myrrh’s,” Ephraim says. 

L’Arachel nods. “I surmised as much. I assume it is to prove the letter is from him, and not a forgery. And so… I came here as soon as I could. With how little detail he gave, I left in secrecy and have brought just Dozla. Only my uncle knows.”

“I think we should leave then, too… as soon as we can. I’m worried,” Eirika says.

“I am too,” L’Arachel says, looking at Eirika with smile so soft. “But try not to worry too much. If it were truly a dire emergency, he would have told us to bring more than simply ourselves. You have far too much to fret about already… try not to let this eat at you as well.”

Ephraim nods. “She is right. I suspect what Saleh has to tell us is important, but lacking in immediate danger. I agree that we should make haste as well, though.”

“Then, I will make preparations immediately,” Seth says. “I’ll inform Kyle and Forde of something to tell the council in the morning, and tell them to await us back in Renais with everyone else. Shall I meet you at the stables?”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Seth,” L’Arachel says. 

He gives a last bow before departing ahead of them.

The three of them head out in silence. It’s not until they are dressing their horses that Eirika says, “By ‘the place it ended…’ does Saleh mean…” her voice trails off a moment. “I don’t like the idea of having to go into that… place again.”

“It’s possible he simply means the woods, and not that temple,” L’Arachel says quietly. “I trust he will be there to meet us the way we went in so we are not simply meandering around.”

Eirika nods. “I trust him, too. Oh, I hope everything is alright…”

“Oh, Eirika… really, please do try not to worry so much over it.” L’Arachel places a hand on Eirika’s arm. “If it helps to ease you, also remember that Saleh is with Myrrh. He would never let any harm befall her. So if he is still with her, and waiting for us there, I am positive there is no danger.”

Slowly, Eirika nods. “No… that does assuage me. You’re right. Thank you, L’Arachel.”

L’Arachel’s smile is quite wide. Ephraim only notices this because she catches his attention when she places a hand on his shoulder. “And you, Ephraim?”

He looks at her blankly. “Hm?”

“Are you worried?”

“About what?”

She tilts her head. “About Saleh and Myrrh.”

“Oh.” He goes back to saddling his horse. “Not particularly. I know Saleh would never allow Myrrh to be in even a bit of danger, and they must be together. So if he’s waiting for us there with her… it can’t be dangerous.”

L’Arachel raises an eyebrow. “Yes… that’s what I just said.”

“Oh.”

The bit of silence around them is a little awkward.

“You seem distracted,” L’Arachel continues. “Is there… anything we can do?”

Ephraim shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

The silence doesn’t quite feel any less awkward.

Thankfully, their horses are set and Seth arrives, and they leave without another word.

* * *

They travel along the exact same path Ephraim had taken from Grado to Jehanna when he rushed to the palace. It’s another reliving, but it’s not nearly as bitter as the trip they had just made into Grado from Renais.

He suspects the trip to Darkling Woods will be more so.

He pushes it, again, from his mind. He continues to do so for the rest of the trip.

When they sleep, he spends his watch shifts looking at the stars. He remembers a time when, after Eirika had fallen asleep, he had spent the night listened as his friend pointed out stars and constellations he had read about.

This night, a group of bright stars catch his attention. They’re a slew going downward — even Ephraim knew this one, the Milky Way. But commanding more of his attention are two specific stars, separated by the Milky Way itself. They’re both bright, beautiful. He wishes he had paid more attention. He wishes he could remember more than the way his friend’s lavender eyes sparkled in the starlight. The same stars they had looked at then look back at him presently, silent as ever, but now they are nameless.

* * *

Perhaps it’s the anticipation, but despite the fact that it is a longer journey than the one they had just made to Grado, it feels faster. A bit of a ways from the entrance to the woods, Saleh awaits.

He gives a short nod of his head in greeting. “Hello. Leave your horses. We will walk the rest of the way. I’ve set for someone in the nearest village to come to take and board them.”

“Board?” L’Arachel asks. “Are we going to be here all that long?”

Saleh has already turned, walking away. “Perhaps.”

L’Arachel huffs a bit, sliding off her horse. “I think it would do well to give us a bit more explanation, now,” she says, following along.

“Yes.” But he doesn’t say anything more, and instead approaches a nearby tree. “It’s alright,” he says, gentler. “Come on.”

From behind the large trunk, a cloaked figure pokes out its head. “Is… Ephraim here?”

Saleh gives the smallest smile and stands aside, allowing Myrrh to see everyone.

She takes a small, hesitant step forward, warily eyeing them all. Ephraim gives the best smile he can and approaches her. “Hello, Myrrh.”

She scurries over to him and takes his wrist. “Hello. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He pats her head.

She gingerly reaches for his hand and keeps that close to him as they travel into the woods in silence.

“Myrrh? Would you like to explain, since you understand better than I?” Saleh says.

Myrrh looks down. “I…” She stops. Ephraim gives a light squeeze to her hand. “I sensed… something… in the woods. Saleh and I… we were at Caer Pelyn. So it was very strong.”

Eirika speeds up a bit. “You sensed something? Like monsters?” 

Myrrh shakes her head. “I… no. No, it is not so sinister. It was like… a great release. It was sudden. I do not sense it anymore. But…”

“Forgive me. I would have liked to have sent more information to all of you,” Saleh says, “and I considered investigating further before sending for you all. However, if it is something dangerous, I did not want to cause delays, and…” He shakes his head.

“And?” L’Arachel says.

He merely shakes his head again. “I do not wish to speak on assumptions. I trust it will not be long until we find what we’re looking for. Though I doubt it is anything of danger, I would still like all of you to be on your guard.” 

The further they head in, the more it feels like a different place altogether than their last visit. The sun’s light filters warmly through the leaves. It is quiet but also not — it is a silence that teems with life. Critters crawl about. Birds call. It is a vibrant, tranquil forest — a far cry from a bloodied battle zone. Light and life had been quick to take back what belonged to them.

“It’s nice here,” Eirika eventually says, quietly, stepping softer whilst still trying to keep up with Saleh’s brisk pace. 

“This is… the Darkling Woods I remember,” Myrrh says, holding onto Ephraim a bit tighter. 

“It is nice… but I must ask, Saleh,” Eirika says, “are we headed somewhere specific? We have been walking for quite a bit.”

Saleh, finally, slows down, and then stops. “Unfortunately, I was hoping what we are looking for would have more of a sign or trail to follow. Or that perhaps Myrrh could sense something.”

Myrrh’s gaze falls. “I’m sorry.”

Saleh shakes his head. “No, no. It is alright. But the woods are large. Perhaps it would be best if we split our efforts.”

L’Arachel nods. “Yes. Even if there is no danger, I don’t think we want to be searching come nightfall.”

“Then, I would like Myrrh to come with me, if she doesn’t mind?” Saleh says, holding out his hand to her. She looks to Ephraim, who gives her hand one last squeeze before she takes to Saleh’s side.

“And Dozla and I will take another direction,” L’Arachel says. “And I suppose you three will stay together?”

Eirika nods. “I would like that. Brother, Seth?”

“Yes… though, if we want to cover more ground, I am more than capable of going it my own,” Ephraim says. 

Seth shakes his head. “I am aware… but I must insist, milord. Let us accompany you.”

A small sigh, and Ephraim says, “I understand. Let’s be off, then. How and when shall we meet up? Or what shall we do if we find something?”

“There is a cottage,” Saleh says, pointing, “over that way. I suggest we meet there at sundown. If we have an emergency or find something, I or Princess L’Arachel can send up a signal with our magic. If you three find something…” He pauses. 

“Let me go with them,” Myrrh says. “Please. Then if we find something… I can turn into a dragon. And call for you.” 

For a moment, Saleh mulls it over. “Very well.” Myrrh hurries back to Ephraim’s side.

“Then it’s settled,” L’Arachel says. “But a cottage? Does someone live here?” She asks. 

“The Darkling Woods are a sacred place to the people of Caer Pelyn. Scholars and sages such as myself have often traveled here, and long ago a select few lived periods of their lives among the residents. But let us be off, now. Time is short and of the essence.”

He turns to walk away.

“Saleh, one moment,” Eirika calls for him. “You seem so hurried. And tense. Are you sure everything is alright?”

He pauses. He does not turn back to them, but says, “I do not believe there is any danger. But I do fear what we may find. I ask that we all remain calm, no matter what.” Swiftly, he disappears further into the forest.

“Hmph,” L’Arachel huffs. “Would it not be best for him to be less cryptic? Honestly! Let us go, Dozla. Be safe, you three.”

She hurries off in another direction, Dozla close to her side.

“Well… shall we be off?” Seth says.

Eirika nods. “Yes…” She takes a step, but then stops, and looks back at Ephraim. “Brother…”

He begins walking, close to her. “What is it?”

Her eyes fall to the ground. And she looks back to him, and then on the way forward. “No… it’s nothing. Let’s go.”

She walks ahead, and he follows. Seth picks up the pace to stay closer to her, and Ephraim feels Myrrh squeeze his hand again.

* * *

They walk a while. None of them have any idea how long. The further they go in, the livelier the woods become. More and more creatures cross their paths. The branches dance above them in the wind and when the clouds part, light, now tinged with the bare beginnings of sunset, dapples between the leaves onto them. 

“It really is so lovely here,” Eirika comments at one point. 

Myrrh nods. “Yes… it is… but…”

Eirika looks at her with a tilted head.

“You do not smile when you say that,” Myrrh says. “Do… you not like it here?”

Eirika shakes her head. “No, no. I do like it, very much. I…” Her pace slows. “I don’t want to make anyone worry. But I just… I cannot shake this anxious feeling… it’s lurked in me since we got here. Even though this place is beautiful… so calm… My heart pounds.” She stops altogether, and looks at Ephraim. “And brother… you have not said a word in so long. This whole way — ever since we left Grado… you’ve been so quiet. Even more so than you have been in — since —” She shakes her head. “I worry for you.”

Ephraim stops too. “Forgive me, Eirika. I…” His words end before they even really began. He searches in his mind, aimlessly, for anything to say. His eyes catch the glint of a bright flower. He does not recognize it. Besides the stars, that was another thing his friend had always known about. He would know this one, too, Ephraim thinks.

“Brother?”

Ephraim shakes his head. “It’s… been a long journey.”

Slowly, Eirika nods. She stares at him. Her heart feels the words he cannot say, and her eyes glaze over with hot tears.

“This forest…” Myrrh says. “It has endured much.” She places her free hand on a tree trunk. “It has seen much hardship… but every time, it has healed.” She pauses. “Anything… with time… can heal.”

Eirika wipes her eyes. Eventually, she quietly says, “I want to believe so.”

Ephraim steps towards her, and places a hand on her shoulder. A gentle, simple touch; when they were little, it was enough to start to calm her from the worst of her nightmares. Now, she simply holds his hand back, weak as he, still trying to blink the tears from her eyes.

“My apologies,” she finally says, and turns back around. “Let’s keep going..”

And so they all do.

* * *

“It’s a different way we came from the last time we were here… but we are near the temple, now,” Myrrh says.

“Are we?” Eirika asks. “I… see. I suppose it would be best to check around there anyway.”

Myrrh nods. “I still do not sense anything sinister… but I want to be sure.”

They take a turn around a grove of trees, and surely enough, the clearing they come into is large, and the temple lay on the other end. It is a larger space than Ephraim remembers. Now that it is not cluttered by beasts and monsters and fighting, it is a beautiful, simple field.

“What is that?” Eirika says, looking towards the distance, towards the lake. A moment later and Seth’s arm has shot in front of her. Ephraim looks for where her gaze falls, and sees what she’s spotted, a figure lying on the ground —

Eirika says something else but Ephraim does not hear. He lets go of Myrrh and he is sprinting, adrenaline bursting into his body like he has never felt, granting him a speed he had no idea he was capable of. The wind and the birds and the sounds of the forest drown into silence, Eirika and Seth calling after him falls deaf upon his ears, but his heart pounds like a drum against his chest. 

He falls to his knees and scoops his arms under the too familiar violet cloak, and he lifts it up — the person inside thin, frail — the hood covering their head falls back.

Lyon’s eyes are closed peacefully, as if sleeping. Ephraim presses his hand to Lyon’s face — ice cold, even through his glove. His heart drops into his stomach. Frantically, he lowers his head onto Lyon’s chest. Over his own hammering heart, he hears the faintest, the weakest of _thump, thumps._ Lyon’s torso rises just barely a millimeter, and falls the same.

Eirika is at his side now. “Oh, Brother, oh — is he — is he —”

“He’s — I — he’s alive,” Ephraim stammers. “But he’s so cold.”

Eirika places a hand to Lyon’s face as well and gasps loudly. “Oh, what do we do? Oh — L’Arachel and the others — maybe they can help —”

Seth places a hand on Eirika’s shoulder. “Instead of signalling for the others, let’s head back. It’s almost sunset. If we call them here, it will only waste time. We should get him inside.”

Ephraim does not really register what Seth says. He cradles Lyon. He is exactly as he last was: cradled in Ephraim’s arms, drawing his last breath. But this time, his breathing is not slowing to a stop. He is not a bloody mess, wounds carved by Ephraim’s own hand. Lyon’s body shakes and Ephraim’s heart nearly stops. He realizes it’s his own arms trembling — but Lyon is so light.

Far away, Ephraim hears Eirika’s voice. “Brother?”

“Right. Yes. Let’s go.”

He lifts Lyon easily, one arm under his knees, and the other under his back. Lyon’s head gently falls against Ephraim’s chest. 

“Milord — might I?” Seth says, holding out his arm.

Ephraim shakes his head. He tightly holds Lyon. He looks ahead — Myrrh stands in front of him.

“Myrrh. What — what’s going on? Do you have any idea?”

Myrrh slowly looks from Ephraim, to Lyon. She takes a step forward and studies him a moment — and then places her hand on his side. “I… do not know. But…” She shakes her head. “No… we should just hurry.”

Ephraim just nods, once. He all but runs back the way they came, Eirika close to him.

* * *

They are entirely silent on the way back. Ephraim manages to peel his attention onto the path often enough — heaven forbid he trip right now — but every other moment, he watches Lyon. He watches his breaths. He pulls him close — to make sure he can feel his soft heartbeat. Lyon is otherwise completely still, and his body remains cold.

They arrive at the cottage. Seth opens the door and Ephraim and Eirika hurry in. 

It’s a fairly small abode, but equipped with the essentials. A single bed sits in the back, and Ephraim gently lays Lyon down on it.

“I’ll heat some water,” Eirika says. “We — we can put a towel on his head. And light the fireplace.”

“Seth, can you go outside before the others get here?” Ephraim asks. “I — I don’t want them to just walk in and see this. I want you to inform them first.”

At first, Seth does not answer. He looks from Lyon, back to Ephraim, and then to Eirika — and then he nods. “Alright. But please… call for me at the slightest.” He bows his head and heads back outside.

Myrrh stands next to Ephraim. 

“Myrrh… I know you can’t say for certain, but…” Ephraim pauses. His hand still lingers on Lyon’s arm. “What’s going on? Is this… he…” Words just fall out of Ephraim’s mouth. Lyon lay a foot in front of him, breathing. There was no way to think, process, speak. There was only watching Lyon’s chest rise a fraction — and then fall. 

For a while — or maybe it isn’t, Ephraim can’t make any sense of time right now — Myrrh is silent. And then she says, “I don’t know what is happening. Your friend… he is weak. I do not know if he will wake up. But I… I do not sense evil in him. I do not sense… something else.”

She places a hand on Ephraim’s arm, so tenderly, it makes Ephraim realize he is squeezing Lyon’s. He loosens his grip. “I am going to go and wait for Saleh outside,” Myrrh says. 

Ephraim can only nod.

He looks back at Lyon and only vaguely hears the door open and then shut behind him. He kneels down, to be on Lyon’s level, and only when he’s on his knees like this does he realize they were trembling.

“Here,” Eirika says, at his side a few moments later. She puts down a bucket — Ephraim can hear the fire crackling on the right — and takes a towel from it, wringing out excess water. Gently, she rests it on Lyon’s forehead.

And then they sit there in silence. Ephraim watches as Eirika places a hand on Lyon’s shoulder, leans forward, and rests her head on the side of the bed. Her body shakes, a little. Ephraim touches his free hand on her back.

Eventually, Eirika turns her head to look at him. “Brother… is this but a cruel joke? What’s going on? What…” She swallows thickly.

Ephraim’s gaze remains fixated on Lyon, but slowly, he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Eirika.” 

For a while, they’re quiet again. And then Ephraim says, “No matter what, though… I want…” Under his own hand, Lyon’s feels smaller than he remembers. Gently, he squeezes it.

“To protect him?” Eirika says, softly.

Ephraim only nods.

“Me too,” she says. “Me too… oh…” She buries her face into her forearm. She shakes again.

Distantly, Ephraim can hear voices outside. L’Arachel’s is the loudest. Clearly audible, but he doesn’t pay attention at all. If he strains, he can hear the quiet, quiet sounds of air leaving — entering — leaving — Lyon’s mouth.

The door opens and Saleh enters. His walk toward the bed is swift, too much so, and Ephraim immediately stands, his whole self between Saleh and Lyon.

“He’s alive?” Saleh asks.

Eirika stands too, slower, trusting. “He… he’s breathing,” she says, as if unsure, as if scared saying it will break what was surely an illusion. “His heart beats. Saleh, what’s going on? How is this possible?”

Saleh takes another step.. “May I have a closer look?”

He looks, stoic and unreadable, at Ephraim. Ephraim does not move. 

Eirika softly places a hand on his arm. “It’s alright,” she says. “Saleh wouldn’t do anything rash, or without telling us.”

Saleh nods. “You have my word.”

Still a bit reluctantly, Ephraim steps to the side. Saleh approaches the bed, placing a hand on Lyon’s chest. 

“You don’t sense anything either… Saleh?”

Ephraim nearly jolts. Myrrh must have entered nearly silently, and now stood barely a few inches away from him.

“I do not,” Saleh says. “I doubted there would be anything. There is no feasible way the Demon King could have been unsealed again. There is nothing that indicates that there is any evil power lurking in his body right now.”

“But… how is he… he’s unwounded,” Eirika says. 

“Is he, completely?” 

Eirika looks at Lyon. “Well… I suppose we haven’t thoroughly checked…”

Without wasting a moment, Saleh begins to unfasten Lyon’s robe. “If his body truly shows no signs of damage… I will be worried. That would mean he has either entirely and flawlessly regenerated, which would only be possible through dark magic, or he isn’t the person we think he is — which would also indicate dark magic. But if…”

His voice trails off as Lyon’s torso is exposed. The red light of the finishing sunset only serves to further emphasize the severity of the scars littering his chest — they are dark and deep. Chains wind and squeeze around Ephraim’s heart and Eirika’s horrified gasp only tightens them.

Saleh does up Lyon’s robe again. “Apologies. But that is a good sign. This is, without a doubt, the Lyon of Grado that we know. But now he is untainted by the Demon King.” He pauses, and turns to face them. “And again… I apologize for not being more forthcoming. Allow me to explain.”

He gestures at a low table and the accompanying cushions on the other side of the room, but neither Ephraim or Eirika budge from the bedside. In the time of a blink, Ephraim thinks that just maybe the tiniest fraction of a smile tugs at Saleh’s lips. “Very well,” he says. “When Myrrh first told me that she felt a great release of power here in the woods, I did fear the worst. I feared that, somehow, the Demon King was free once more. But not only did that not make fundamental sense, but she also did not sense any kind of sinister power.”

Myrrh nods along.

“I thought, perhaps, it was the leftover power from sealing him finally being released. You are familiar with the concept of entropy, yes?” Eirika nods. Ephraim does not. But Saleh continues, “The battle inside the temple was intense. The process of sealing the Demon King inside the sacred stone was even more so. That abundance of magical energy used in such a short time did not simply vanish, of course. It lingered in the temple, no doubt, and took a while to settle. It dwindled.” He pauses a moment. “Now, I delve solely into theory… the Prince, as we know, was very keen on magic, and I am sure having the Demon King lurking inside him only amplified his latent abilities. Even if the Demon King was expelled from his body, the kind of magic would not simply vanish… but rather diminished, slowly, over time, and also became more stable and less chaotic.” Again, he pauses. “And as it stabilized, it… is in theory possible that it would seek to stabilize in the closest, most magically attuned vessel. And of course, would it be living and wounded, it would seek to make sure its vessel was well… and once it was finished, it would not be entirely strange for Myrrh, connected to the woods as she is, to feel it herself…”

Saleh’s voice trails off into a silence that encompasses the whole room. All eyes are now on Lyon, still seemingly asleep, still silent.

It is Myrrh that speaks next, even softer than usual. “I think… the forest chose to save him. It could not take another life spilled onto its soil… I think it saw a life worth saving… perhaps.”

Eirika places a hand on Lyon’s bedside. “Could… the forest do something like that?”

Myrrh takes a moment before answering. “It… is a magic, sacred place. Many scholars and magicians have said they think it possesses a will of its own… and many of my own tribe believed this as well.”

“There’s really no way to know for sure what happened,” Saleh says. “Unless, perhaps, the Prince himself can tell us something.”

“When will he wake?” Eirika says quickly. Saleh doesn’t answer. Eirika looks back to Lyon, and then to Saleh again, and asks with a quieter voice, “Will… he wake?”

Saleh shakes his head. “That, too… there is no way to know for certain.”

Again, the room is silent. Eirika’s hand trembles on Lyon’s bedside and Ephraim lightly places his over hers.

“We want to stay,” he says. “Until he wakes.”

Quiet once more. No one states the obvious what if.

“There is another cottage… close to here,” Myrrh eventually says. “Perhaps it would be best if Saleh and I stayed there as well for the time being.”

Saleh nods. “I think that would be well. You can come get us if… anything happens, or if you need anything.”

“I can show you some of my favorite parts of the forest,” Myrrh says. It manages to make Eirika give the smallest smile, and almost Ephraim as well. Almost.

Eirika looks to Ephraim, his eyes still solely focused on Lyon. She opens her mouth — closes it — and then opens it again. “I… am going to go talk to L’Arachel. …Do you wish to come?”

He doesn’t respond. She squeezes his hand a bit.

“Ah… no. I will stay here, unless I’m needed.”

She shakes her head. “Stay.”

Saleh is first to turn and head out the door. And then Myrrh. And then, finally, Eirika. It shuts with a loud creak.

The room is dark, now. The sun has all but completely set. Ephraim presses a hand to Lyon’s face once more, soft as he can. Lyon’s skin is still cold. Reaching to the foot of the bed, Ephraim takes a folded blanket and spreads it over Lyon, carefully tucking it as best he can. 

His feet ache and he thinks it truly has been a long day. He sinks to his knees, leaning against the bedside, one hand still resting on it, an inch away from Lyon. He fights the urge to let it rest on Lyon’s shoulder. Just like his feet, his eyes feel heavy, heavier now that he rested on the ground. He wanted Lyon to rest as much as possible, and do nothing to disturb, not even the slightest touch. His eyes shut. He opens them instantly, worried for a moment Lyon wouldn’t be there. He scoots his hand onto Lyon’s shoulder, to make sure he is still there. His eyes close again. And they stay closed. He moves his hand off Lyon. What would Lyon think if he woke? Ephraim opens his eyes. Lyon was still there. But wasn’t he cold? Ephraim manages to take off his glove, thinking maybe the warmth of his bare skin would be better. It was probably a little too late for that. His eyes close again, against his will. And without any intention of his own, his hand moves lower, onto Lyon’s. It is cold. Ephraim squeezes it. And he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> not actually sure if one more chapter, might be two smaller ones. thank you so much for reading.


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